


Hear them.

by vitamenwaterzero



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, i visited the prydwen and got sad lmao, teen for talking about death and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 14:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitamenwaterzero/pseuds/vitamenwaterzero
Summary: He can hear them in the back of his mind.The footfalls of heavy boots on the metal floors, each metallic pang wracked with guilt. This is his fault.---Nate visits the wreckage of the Prydwen and considers his choices.





	Hear them.

He can hear them in the back of his mind. 

The footfalls of heavy boots on the metal floors, each metallic pang wracked with guilt. This is his fault. 

He stands, now, in the remains of what was once a mighty ship, stripped bare to its skeleton to the point that it is hard to tell where the Prydwen ends and a random plane or boat begins. He knew he never fully understood its scale, but here, when he stands smack in the center of the rubble, he’s struck with the sheer length of the thing. He can see from one end (hollow, dead, flooded) to the other (cluttered, messy, lightly littered with corpses) and is overcome simultaneously with how large and how small the ship was. Massive, encapsulating an army and then some, promising safety (hah) and rest before the next big fight. Small, minuscule in the proportion of all that life. Life, blustering through the hallways, eating and laughing in the mess hall, resting in its quarters. Life in all shapes and sizes, beefy knights to scrawny initiates, old proctors to squire children. 

And now all of that is squashed under the big bad heel of the Minutemen’s boot. He knows well even if he ignored the Minutemen’s call for the blimp’s demise, soon the Railroad would call for him and insist it be taken down for reasons more justifiable than just self-defense. This was unavoidable. He tells himself, repeatedly, this was unavoidable. 

Still the guilt weighs heavy in his heart, thinking back to all the knights and initiates and scribes and proctors and squires he ended with one command and five canons. His steps reverberate through the metal, making the same sounds they did when he used to run through the ship, yet more hollow. Tears prickle his eyes as he takes stock of all that was lost. He knows that what they were doing was wrong. He knows extermination of people, real living people was wrong, synthetic or otherwise. He knows Nick is a person, Danse is a person, x6-88 was a person (bitter memories accompany his name, or rather designation), Curie is a person, and furthermore so are Hancock, Strong, and Codsworth. All have personalities (some admittedly better than others) and thoughts. They do not deserve to be eliminated for that simple fact alone. 

Slowly he wades into the pool at the opposite end of the ship, turning around to look at the remains in their entirety. Piles and piles of rubble lay under the bare bones of the ship, and he wonders how many decaying corpses he could pull out if he dedicated his time to it.

He wonders if they deserve the honor of a proper burial. Earlier, shortly after the Prydwen was first destroyed, he had come with bushels of flowers to leave at the site. And yet he wonders. They were, in a way, evil, perhaps with earnest intent but with execution so foul it’d be impossible to fully stay by their side. He knows the children do. They were innocent enough, he knows there’d be a chance to train the evil out of them. He recounts the rest of the inhabitants on the ship. Teagan, no, stealing from simple farmers for his own cause. Maxson, no, domineering the damn near cult of an organization. His mind goes to Ingram, Madison, and he falters. Quickly though he remembers the molerats and snorts, mentally checking them off as deserving, and the negativity of the previous thoughts leave him. 

He’s stood in the remains for minutes now, thinking, and then Nick speaks up. “I can’t imagine this was easy for you. But,” theres a brief pause, as if he’s considering his words. At this point Nate has turned to look at him. “I gotta say I personally enjoy the relief. I’m sure other’s are going to too, yeah?” His hands go to his pockets, and he looks Nate in the eye. “We’re a lot safer now. The Commonwealth won’t forget that. Especially folks like me.” His last words end with a small grin, and Nate lets out an equally small laugh. Despite the fact that he can smell corpses he knows he killed mere yards away. 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Nick.” Any semblance of a smiles falls, and theres another long moment of silence, before he sighs, stretches, and turns to face Nick, drudging himself out of the water. “C’mon, then. I’ve done enough mopping around.” He then pats his pockets. “Gotta get this steel back home.” 

Nick chuckles, partly at the statement and partly because of relief from seeing Nate walking away from all the rubble and memories. “As if you don’t have piles back at the castle.” 

He gets a shrug in return, Nate ducking under the metal of the remains and stepping out of them entirely. “Never know when somebody might want a new benchpress.” 

Nick nods, albeit unconvinced. “Because what could we possibly do without them.” 

“Exactly.” And with that, they’re walking home, Nick guiding his friend back to his home, his people, his family. To a life he deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing ive written since middle school oh my god


End file.
